


today is enough for us

by Elisye



Series: no more goodbyes (though my heart is still aching) [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Au Ra Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Drabble, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Gen, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), takes place right after a certain point in the lvl50 drk quest :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:42:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26313616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisye/pseuds/Elisye
Summary: To a warmer place, then.Far, far away, to a kinder place where no one knows us, begs for us, expects anything of us.(or: the warrior of light waits, is rewarded, andleaves.)
Relationships: Fray Myste & Warrior of Light
Series: no more goodbyes (though my heart is still aching) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911922
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	today is enough for us

**Author's Note:**

> hi i just finished leveling drk to lvl50 and basically this is me feeling a lot of things (with a vague sprinkle of backstory for my wol)
> 
> anyway drk quests good please play it

The ocean laps at her feet, creeping slow over the sands before receding in heartbeats. Salt tugs at her nose, hurrying over the quickening breezes as much as it covers her toes along with the sand and powdered seashells that the tide scatters. Her face scrunches as she takes in the view, the perfect horizon of blue sky meeting blue sea, peaceful above all. Yet the winds whisper a faint omen. Out there, far out there, a storm is brewing - dark and ceaseless, senseless.

But that isn’t any of her problem. Not anymore.

Another pair of footsteps trace a weaving pattern alongside the ones the raen has made during her walk. Those footsteps, too, are swept over by the waves, disappearing ever so quietly, ever so softly. And yet, even when those footsteps, hers and theirs, vanish into the sea, it can’t be denied that the two still exist - still stand there, ash and pitch figures against a perfect backdrop of summer.

What strange ghosts they must make. Solid yet ephemeral, dark against the light, defiant and heartless when they should - she should - be as complacent and generous as a saint’s legends. Instead, Illyse adjusts her sunhat for a long minute, tilting the wide brim so that the sunlight stops sparkling in her eyes. Green eyes that the Mothercrystal would have lit into kindness, into mercy, into the fresh grass of a spring meadow, naive and lovely.

In the gentle shadow of her sunhat, her eyes now observe the horizon with a half-familiar detachment, green as snake venom. A pleasant malice. A small smile curls along her lips as she chooses once more, aloud in her heart, to leave a faraway continent bereft of its savior, its perfect messiah, its convenient martyr. How does one save a world without loving it, after all? Only Hydaelyn’s deal pressed her so, to love this foreign world without any love.

And now, when she can finally muster it - true love, for what, for whom, she cares for beyond all else - it was a natural thing, then. The deal was abandoned. Certainly, there are _consequences_ to this deal, the unkind and unpleasant sort - but she will just face them afterwards. 

Fray’s hand twines with hers, cold as a corpse can only be, but comforting for that same reason. She has no need for a warrior’s summer, for divine light and fresh, warm blood. The taste of brimstone is too familiar to enjoy such things anymore.

“We should go.” Fray remains helmeted, forever will be, but their frown is unmistakable. “This is far too dull a view - somewhere uphill would be better.”

“It’s not like we can see Eorzea burn and sink no matter how high we climb.”

That elicits a small laugh. “Oh, but the thought alone makes for good entertainment, don’t you think?”

It does, and that is why Illyse has no protests, letting her sandals print shallow shapes into the sand alongside the heavier, armored prints of her shadow. Adding a few extra hours to her walk leads the two to the tallest cliff in the New World, where as guessed, it’s impossible to discern any land over the horizon line. But the sun is close to setting now - the sea has been set ablaze.

Illyse sits at the very edge, legs swinging idle into the air as she bites into a nectarine plucked along the way, the juices sweeter than any she has tasted in this life and the one before. Fray remains standing beside her, arms folded, putting on an act of living as they breathe deep with eyes closed to let the peace of these moments sink in. Between the two of them, a lullaby from another world, another life, is hummed as this planet’s twilight transforms into hell.

Such scenery—or at least the comparison—should frighten her a bit, perhaps. Even now, she remembers the sensation of sinking into hellfire, every demonic claw and fang gnawing into the marrow of her limbs, her soul _screaming_ because as much as she accepted death at that point, still, still, deep down, she didn’t want to suffer so miserably, so _pointlessly—_

But unlike that first life, shorter-lived than a candle in a storm, she is no longer in the center of the inferno. Instead, she sits far, far away from it all - watching the day come to another end, in the company of the sole person who could ever understand her heart and her past.

What a warm view it is.


End file.
